


Five Times Spock Was Embarrassed by His Vulcan Strength and the One Time He Wasn't

by bonesmctightass



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Embarrassment, M/M, Unfinished sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 09:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/pseuds/bonesmctightass
Summary: Written for my friend who requested it. Strap in, y'all.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	1. The First Time

Sweat rolled down McCoy’s cheek into the pillow containing his shameless grunts of pleasure. He had to use his arm as a barrier between his head and the wall lest he risked getting fucked through it. Spock was wild tonight, which was a rarity. Maybe he ought to go on more away missions after all. Normally McCoy had to beg to feel the power of that Vulcan strength. And even then, Spock always held back.

But not tonight. Something about being flirted with while they were planetside really unleashed something in Spock. The whole time they were down there Spock would grab his wrist or touch the back of his neck or yank him into a secluded alcove to suck the air from his lungs. It was the _best_. 

Now that they were back in the safety of their cabin Spock was free to _really_ let loose. And boy did he. The remnants of McCoy’s uniform were laying on the floor somewhere, along with the bedding. He could barely form words, let alone think, with Spock stretched over his back fucking into him like this. Even remembering to breathe was a struggle.

Every noise McCoy let out seemed to spur Spock on. If he had any desire to look he was sure he’d see teeth marks and crescent moons from fingers digging too deep into his skin. Spock was holding his hips so hard he could feel the handprints being bruised into them. He _wanted_ it. He wanted it all. He’d wear those marks with pride.

“More,” McCoy choked out, all but sobbing with pleasure. 

Spock mumbled something unintelligible to McCoy’s ears and thrust into him so hard he lost his grip on the sheets. McCoy smacked his forehead right into the wall. Pain immediately blossomed and radiated down to his temples. 

“Ow, ouch, goddamn it!" It was probably the most mortifying thing to ever happen to him during sex. He could only imagine how Spock was feeling.

"Leonard, are you alright?” Spock damn near tripped over himself trying to pull out and get McCoy turned around. Those warm hands went right to McCoy’s cheeks so he could inspect the area properly. “I believe you are going to bruise. I am so sorry, ashayam. Please forgive me." 

"It’s alright, I’m fine. Just startled me is all. Now can we get back to it?” McCoy flopped onto his back and attempted to pull Spock on top him. The Vulcan was, of course, having none of it. 

Spock narrowed his eyes, a frown tugging unpleasantly at his lips. “You cannot be serious." 

"Oh I’m _very_ serious.” McCoy was nothing if not persistent. Usually that got him his way, especially where Spock was concerned. “Now quit your fussin’ and get back in me.” He spread his knees pointedly and waited. 

“I… do not think that is wise. Perhaps _after_ I meditate.” That was not the response McCoy wanted. It seemed as though Spock wasn’t going to budge. At least, not right away.

Having no intention of letting this go, McCoy groaned and crossed his arms over his chest petulantly. “Fine. I’ll wait." 

And wait he did. Very patiently, in fact. And patience was not one of McCoy’s virtues. When Spock was finished, he tried his best to be alluring. He even tried baiting Spock with an argument. Despite his best efforts, they did not get back to it. McCoy had a very depressing wank in the shower while Spock did what Vulcans do best—aggressively avoid talking about the problem. 

Tonight he would let it go. But this was _not over_. 


	2. The Second Time

It had been a good long while since the wall incident. Spock hadn’t so much as looked at McCoy too hard since then. They had barely been having sex, but even when they had Spock insisted on being bottom. McCoy didn’t _really_ mind, but it wasn’t the manhandling he really craved. Just when he thought their relationship would never get back to normal, they had another away mission. **  
**

Something invariably went south and they were often in the wrong place at the wrong time. Spock had never particularly liked it when McCoy was made to beam down with them because of this. And he was made well aware of this fact when Spock tried to get him off the roster. It was as endearing as it was irritating. The request was, of course, swiftly denied. As soon as their feet touched the ground, Spock had apparently made up his mind about being McCoy’s bodyguard and never strayed more than a foot or two away from him, presumably in the event that disaster struck. And strike it did. 

It was a well known fact that McCoy was far better at giving orders than following them. And so he threw himself between his crew and the danger of the crossfire between natives that they had walked right into so that everyone could beam back aboard safely. He’d done it before and he’d do it again and again and again. Spock was absolutely _furious_. They argued all the way to sickbay. They argued while Chapel patched up his only slightly inconvenient stab wounds. They argued on the lift and all the way down the hall to their cabin. 

“Your recklessness knows no bounds. You could have been killed.” As soon as the bulkhead slid shut Spock closed the gap between them until McCoy had nowhere else to go but backwards. He felt the unforgiving edge of the desk pressing into his spine but refused to flinch.

“You’re being dramatic!” He knew as he said it that it was a weak argument, but he really had nothing else in his arsenal to defend himself. He wanted Spock to punish him, and the only way _that_ was going to happen was to piss him off even more. So he yelled, “I was _barely_ stabbed!” 

“This is precisely why you cannot be trusted on away missions.” Spock growled as he fisted McCoy’s tunic and yanked it up over his head. “You are too careless with yourself.”

“Yeah? And what are _you_ going to do about it?” McCoy countered as he divested his mate of his uniform top. “My guess is _nothing_. You’ve barely laid a hand on me all month. I think I’ll get away with today like I get away with doing everything else you don’t approve of.” 

To make his point he swiped the junk off the desk’s surface not caring about the padds hitting the floor or the mess he made as he hauled himself up onto it. The tension was mounting and McCoy was aiming for the ceiling. If they weren’t eye level, McCoy might have missed the twitch of Spock’s brow. He could see the steel undercurrent of Spock’s eyes from this angle much better now. Good. 

“If you don’t like it, fucking _do_ _something_.” McCoy dared.

After the month they’d had, if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes he wouldn’t have believed Spock capable of grabbing the hem of his slacks and using the leverage to jerk him across the desk so he could kiss him breathless. He could feel Spock’s searing hot hands tearing the fabric of his slacks to get them down his thighs. His underwear didn’t fare much better but McCoy didn’t even have the mental capacity to care. Spock apparently didn’t have the patience to indulge in any foreplay either, because the next think McCoy knew he was being turned and shoved face down into the synthetic wood.

“Since you have no interest in taking care of your body, surely you will not care about what I do to it.”

The drawer beneath him flew open so forcefully there was no possible way it would slot back into place. Spock’s hand came away with a bottle of slick that McCoy had long since forgotten was even in there. This new position wasn’t kind to McCoy’s back or knees but he’d stay like this forever as long as Spock kept putting those long wet fingers into him. 

“God, _Spock_, do whatever you want.” 

He’d taken three up to the last knuckle easily enough, considering how bad McCoy wanted it. If Spock was inclined to play that game, he’d let him put his whole hand in. Anything just to be filled to the brim. He was almost devastated when those fingers left him until he finally got Spock’s cock. 

Just as they’d gotten a good hard rhythm going, McCoy was warned with a splintering creak seconds before the legs of the desk gave out from the force. Only Spock’s quick reflexes had saved McCoy from falling onto the floor. All they could do for several seconds was stare at the mess in the wake of their disaster.

“… I believe I owe you another apology.”


End file.
